


The Owl and the Pussycat

by Toodleoo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Babysitting, Beginnings, Co-workers, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6806683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/pseuds/Toodleoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure, Snape was the infant's godfather. He didn't think that either Draco or Astoria would ever actually call upon him to <i>babysit.</i></p><p>At least Granger has some experience with children. Surely, she can handle the lad, can't she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Owl and the Pussycat

The taciturn man held up the bundle to the light, inspecting the object that had been thrust into his arms with a hasty explanation and an apology.

_A steady inhalation and exhalation of air? Check._

_Blond hair? Check._

_Gray eyes, two? Check and check._

Although Scorpius Malfoy technically had been assigned to some level of care from one Severus Snape at his naming ceremony months earlier, neither of his parents had ever really expected to call on the boy's godfather for anything. The Malfoys granted Astoria's parents unsupervised time with the child, but, as the young couple often said, they desperately needed to find another babysitter. Narcissa had a tendency to pass off the baby to a house-elf, which Astoria wouldn't tolerate, and the thought of handing her child over to Lucius Malfoy gave the young woman palpitations. She wasn't insane. For longer periods of time, the couple called on Astoria's sister Daphne and her husband Theodore Nott, who had together managed to keep their two children alive for a few years now. Selecting Snape as the godparent for the newest Malfoy heir was a symbolic gesture, a choice made to honor the man who had protected Draco through the darkest year of his life.

No, Snape would never be doting 'Uncle Severus', a man who dandled babies on his knee. He would never pick up crying children, dust them off, and kiss their scrapes in order to make them better, or bake them biscuits to nibble with glasses of warm milk before nap time.

That's what had made Severus agree to this godfather business in the first place. He knew their expectations were low. In fact, his plan for involvement in the boy's life consisted of ignoring it for at least the first six years of life. Then he'd give the boy a potions set at an age when he could properly terrorize his parents, and he'd buy him an owl when he was ready to chug off on the Hogwarts Express. Maybe he'd toast the lad if and when he ever consigned himself to the horrors of matrimony.

So when Astoria showed up at his home with a sleeping baby in her arms, weepy and sniffling and mumbling out a description of an accident that had sent Draco and Theo to St Mungo's, Snape hadn't had his excuses ready. He just accepted the warm armful of child and nodded furiously as Astoria rattled off a list of instructions that he knew was about to forget. She Apparated off, and he was stuck with a living being, dependent on him for everything until Draco's health had stabilized and Astoria could return.

* * *

Snape sat down in his armchair, gingerly holding the child out in front of him. What on earth was he to do with one of these things?

Wordlessly, he summoned his newest potions journal, suspending the book in front of his face so that he wouldn't fall behind on the dubiously researched article at hand. Before Astoria had arrived, Severus had already made up his mind to draw up a letter to the editor, outlining the four fallacies presented in the suspect author's shoddy work. He wasn't about to let a baby sidetrack him. He held the baby out while reading through Edwin Higginbottom's crap theories on transfigurative potions and elemental shifts in matter. The man was an idiot of the highest order.

When Snape was finished with his reading, he summoned a notebook and a pen to scribble out the first draft of the letter. Unfortunately, there was no spell he could use to dictate his thoughts. Hypothetically, he could work through the runes and the Latin to create a spell to do what he needed to do, but that would take at least an hour or two, and Severus hadn't planned on wasting an hour or two of his life that evening.

Perhaps he could suspend Scorpius in mid-air instead. The boy _was_ still sleeping, after all.

Of course, Astoria would weep like a damsel in an eighteenth-century novel if the baby fell. Draco would keep a stiff upper lip while calling in the family Healer, but Madame Greengrass? She would castrate him.

Only one option presented itself to his distracted brain. He went to the Floo to make a call. 'Granger!'

He waited for the woman to traipse into her living room. When she saw his head bobbing in the embers of the fire, she gasped. 'Severus! It's ten o'clock at night. What are you doing?'

'Get over here,' he said. He'd been holding a baby for almost fifteen minutes, which was fifteen minutes longer than his yearly quota. Granger would be better equipped to deal with the child. 'An hour ago would have been better. Now will suffice.'

She failed to catch the importance of his demands. 'Severus Snape! Did it occur to you that I might be busy tonight? You can't just expect me to drop everything when you—'

'I need you.'

She sighed.

He had her, and he knew it. She was a sucker for being needed, and traditionally, he never admitted defeat or confirmed any weakness.

'I'm already in my pyjamas,' she said, her voice tired and sulking.

'I don't care what the bloody hell you're wearing,' he said.

 _And he didn't._ It didn't matter what Granger had put on, since she was always a vision of feminine delight.

Not that he'd ever tell her that. She was a colleague, a reliable bench warmer who worked alongside him at the research laboratory in the bowels of the Ministry. After a few years by her side, he'd finally acknowledged her skill and intelligence. A few months more, and his eyes were opened to her uncommon beauty and the exceptional kindness that marked everything she did.

Quite a woman, Granger was.

_Terrifyingly perfect._

She also published almost as much as he did, and she was much better liked among the Ministry plebeians than he was. If he messed around with Granger, England in its entirety would have his hide.

'Fine,' she called. 'I'm coming.'

She stepped through his Floo wearing a ratty pair of track pants and an oversized jumper with a low neckline, her hair swept up in a knot, revealing the smooth, pale skin of her perfect neck.

Severus swallowed, trying not to stare.

She stepped around his coffee table, moving closer to him. Eyeing the pale white blanket, she looked back up at him. 'Who... Who is that?' she asked.

He shoved Scorpius into her arms. 'It's a Malfoy.'

'Oh!' she cried, looking down in surprise at the baby.

'I'm not taking it back,' he said. 'You've got it now.'

'It's a _he_ , Severus, not an _it_. Honestly!' she tutted at him. She sat down on Snape's leather sofa, curling her perfect legs up beneath her perfect body. Hermione jostled the swaddled child in her arms, adjusting him so that he would be cradled next to her breast. 'This is little Scorpius?'

The baby yawned, squirming in his blanket. Snape watched as the lad wiggled in his sleep, turning his face to Granger's perfect bosom for comfort. She was oblivious, of course, but the boy's mouth opened and closed a few times as though he was searching for something.

When the baby didn't find what it was looking for, it began blinking wildly. And crying. Loud, strangling wails, as though a pterodactyl had just been attacked by a larger beast. As though a pair of raccoons were in heat, angrily mating in the moonlight. As though a thousand fingernails were scraping down chalkboards.

Snape shot a Silencing Charm at it.

Peace and quiet, again restored.

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes wide in surprise. 'You can't simply shut him up with magic!'

Snape narrowed his gaze. 'You cannot tell me that you want to listen to that cacophony.'

She waved her wand, canceling out his spell. The crying resumed, louder than ever, and she began shushing the baby. 'Hush, now, Scorpius.' She cooed and rocked, but nothing would quiet the boy.

She stood up and paced back and forth, trying to get him to calm down.

She stuck her finger in his mouth for Merlin only knew what reason. When he didn't latch on to it, she withdrew her hand from his face.

She sat down again, cradling Scorpius in her arms.

And began to sing.

_If you could call it that._

'Sing' might be a generous approximation for the garbled warbling that she produced. The word described Granger's intent, but not the actual product, as what was leaking from her could not be considered music even by the most primitive society. Severus could tell from the words of that it was intended to be a lullaby, manipulating the wild man-beast into slumber, but Granger's pipes were anything but perfect.

She was terrible.

For a brief moment, Scorpius stopped crying, and Severus thought that her harrowing tones had actually silenced the baby. The peace, however, was short-lived. It seemed that Scorpius had shut his yap just long enough to stare at Granger, stunned that any other human being could make a noise uglier than the one he was currently making.

Then he began crying again.

Severus sat down beside Hermione, listening to her words of an owl and a feline and a boat. After she had repeated the same verse a few times, he had figured out the tune.

He sang along, quietly at first. 'The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea...'

Hermione looked into his eyes, a slow smile overtaking her face. Her voice faltered, and she stopped singing completely, just content to hold the baby and listen to Severus serenading them both.

He was a little self-conscious about this, but between the warmth of her expression and the fact that Scorpius was now yawning, Severus continued to sing. 'In a beautiful pea-green boat, they took some honey, and plenty of money...'

She scooted over on the couch, pressing her body up against his. Scorpius yawned up at them again.

It didn't take long for the child to drift off.

A few minutes later, he noted, Hermione's head dropped against his chest as well. He summoned a blanket, drawing it up over their legs. He could have moved the sleeping woman, but he rationalized keeping her there by telling himself that he didn't want to wake the baby.

For that matter, who knew if Hermione would shift in her sleep? Severus did the responsible thing, reaching across her, wrapping his arms around the small woman and the bundle in her arms.

After all, Severus was the baby's godfather. He needed to protect the lad. It was his duty.

* * *

If, early the next morning, Astoria was surprised by the vignette awaiting her at Snape's house, she didn't show it. She cautiously extricated her sleeping child from Miss Granger's grasp. Draco had woken up, and he'd want to see their son.

As she entered the Floo, she turned back to see her former classmate burying herself in Snape's arms.

 _Well_ , she thought shrewdly, _it looks like we'll be able to ask Scorpius's godfather to babysit more often._


End file.
